Eurydice
by palomino333
Summary: "Take it back! Take it all back!" She shrieked, "You saw our fates, now change them! I won't have it! I won't allow others to be hurt because of me!" Roseshipping. Maximillion/Cecelia. Pre and post Duelist Kingdom. One-shot.


I combined a few elements from the sub and dub. In the sub, Pegasus' journal is written in English, so Anzu has to translate it to Japanese. I wanted to include this to show that she has more purpose to her group of friends than just the occasional duel, cheering, or being Yugi and Yami's perspective love interest. In the dub, the journal is written to Cecelia, whereas in the sub, it addresses the new King of Games. I chose the dub because it is much more personal that way. As a smaller note, Maximillion's eye socket bleeds in the sub when he receives his eye, as opposed to the dub, where the blood is edited out.

Pegasus, according to the anime, has only seen his wife once since receiving the Millennium Eye. I don't think this is the case. If he has the ability to look at her, wouldn't he do so more often? The journal, then, would just serve as a double reminder to the fact that he wishes to bring her back to life, lest he stray. I wanted to add Cecelia's point-of-view on the matter, since so much happens due to her death. If it wasn't for her dying, Duel Monsters would not have been created. While I'm on the subject, I'm sorry if I made Shadi seem robotic. To me, he's just a very emotionless character in the anime.

I own nothing.

* * *

"Maximillion, it's really you." Cecelia's delight at seeing her beloved after so long was expressed in nothing but a soft whisper.

She slowly drifted toward him, her skirt billowed out behind her like a plume, and her golden hair trailing in a carefree pattern. Her arms were outstretched, the tranquility of the moment plain in her slightly-closed eyes, and gently parted lips.

The moment's perfection was tainted somewhat by the scarlet trail dribbling down from the odd, gold eye set into the left side of his face.

Worry sparked in her for a moment. Was he hurt? She had never seen that "eyeball" before.

It was quickly dispersed. His silver mane of hair was well-brushed, and his clothes were perfectly in place. An elated, but slightly disbelieving smile was on his face. Oh, who was to care? They were together again.

"Cecelia…I've found you at last…" His words were so simple, but they held such raw, unbridled emotion. A tear trailed from his natural eye.

His arms were outstretched to embrace her as she stopped before him, her skirt drawn close. Her head was bent in a courtly manner, her eyes closed.

To feel those arms delicately holding her to him again…But they never did draw her close.

Cecelia's eyes shot open. Her cry of shock was caught in her hand. Her knees locked, bringing her to a standing position.

"Maximillion?" The name was uttered in a lost voice.

She quickly turned her head back and forth, finding nothing just as soon as she called his name with no answer.

Cecelia called once more, her hand idly kneading a lock of hair that was hanging over her right shoulder.

Whatever happiness and warmth she had rediscovered were gone in a sigh. This world had taken her crippling pain in exchange for peace, but it had also left so much from her.

Had been it real? She often entertained herself with visions of their past together, that shy, blushing boy who murmured a "hello" at his father's glamorous party, and the careful but confident artist, whose rush strokes brought her to life on canvas…

She extended her thumb and forefinger to rub at her eyes. Those were images, no matter how loved or poignant they were. They were there, and gone, an old film reel spun to its end.

This matter was different. His appearance had sparked a pure sense of being together, as opposed to nostalgic detachment.

She hugged herself tightly, an uncertain frown on her face. It had been a glorious feeling, but she hoped it would never appear again. It was so soft, and so comforting, but its realness caused her such anxiety, for it did not exist in her realm as it did in the previous one. It would show itself to vanish so soon, its soothing caress veiling the perpetual agony of sick beds. She was better off not thinking on the matter.

That, of course, did not happen. She had rejected that notion of security by thinking over it more and more as time drew on.

Having passed away young, and being the only child of her family, Cecelia had little with whom to converse. Her deceased relatives were practically unknown to her. She had only met them in her infancy, her memory not having completely formed yet.

Not that she was complaining about her solitude. No longer would she be confined by disease. She could at last do all she pleased.

Fields of wildflowers stretched before her, her feet cushioned on the soft grasses. Sailboats carried her to lands filled with plants and animals she would only see in storybooks. Waterfalls crested over high rock faces, and crashed into small reflecting pools below. Mists rose in assorted golds, blues, greens, and reds. Orchids dotted dense rainforests, providing splotches of blue, purple, pink, and yellow against the predominately green environment. Curious, scarlet creatures with fluffy tails scampered among tall tree limbs. Their faces were white masks. Birdsong by wildly-colored birds of flight filled the air. Ocean waves broke over rocky shoals, the sands behind them soft and white. Seagulls sat open the rocks, or flew overhead, while the wind stirred grasses in the dunes.

This world was hers now, but this foreign experience held a stronger significance to it, although it was less extravagant. It never did return, but she turned it over in her mind while it was absent. The complete lack of social stimulation hadn't been an issue until the appearance of another person. It was an utterly manifested need, and it was jarring.

The more she thought of it, however, the more the confusion and fear at its unknown meaning began to fall away. Staring up at the shafts of sunlight in the canopy above her, she wondered what it would be like to see another human face again. It wouldn't even have to be him. Her parents, who worried about her well-being since she learned how to talk, would be overjoyed to see her so independent.

The petals of a picked orchid were soft against her palm as she wondered what the touch of another hand would feel like. Squeezing it, she watched the lavender petals fall to the ground. That hadn't happened yet.

Perhaps it was because it wasn't to be. The living and the dead needed to remain separate. No, that wasn't exactly correct. Her memories of her life before still existed.

Then again, what sort of logic was that? For all she knew, she was wrong. No one could correct or question her. The philosophers throughout the ages had sung their praises about the knowledge and insight yielded by death, yet no such gifts had been given to her. If anything, she was no closer to the truth than on that fateful day she had forced her protesting muscles up the aisle, smiling upon her friends, family, and lover as if nothing was amiss.

Had the experience not returned, she would have eventually dismissed it, but that peace of mind did not come.

Her love's second appearance held a different sense of shock. Maximillion's first appearance had startled her for the simple fact that it was impossible for him to be there. The second, however, reinforced the fact that he could see her whenever he pleased.

At first it was a relief. It had not been an illusion, for he had returned.

The scene was much less one of a happy reunion as before. Cecelia was enthused to see him, but she was more compelled to ask him questions. Why was he here? How did he enter this realm? Why, oh, why, couldn't he touch her?

She had extended her hand toward him, and although he had moved to take it, their palms never did touch, their fingers hovering just over each other without interlocking.

His gaze was warm once more, his human eye tracing over her softly as he whispered her name in admiration.

She was endeared by his gaze, but the smile she had on her face was not completely true. Cecelia enjoyed his company, but she wanted answers. That other eye was still there, and it was unnerving.

He was dressed more formally, wearing a red suit. It made her miss the original sight of him, his casual dress promoting more intimacy.

"What does this mean?" She whispered.

He only smiled at her. "Don't worry, my dear, it will all make sense soon. We will be together again."

That told her absolutely nothing, and she was utterly disappointed. It was for good reason, but then again, looking back, she had been used to disappointments. Her family and caretakers had kept much of the truth of her weak immune system from her in order to spare her the pain of it all. It had eventually come to light in her later life.

But this…This was another matter altogether. All answers she had desired were denied. Together? How? Oh, no…

"Maximillion, don't—"

He was already gone from her once more.

Cecelia seized her skirt, her knuckles turning white from the tightness of her fingers, and her nails digging into the fabric.

Dropping it, she buried her head in her hands. First the strange eye, and now the claim of them being together in the future? She could only think of one way for that to occur, and she couldn't bear the thought of it. He couldn't end his life because of her!

Cecelia, for as much as she wished to push it away, could not deny its presence in the back of her mind. His adoration for her was completely unbridled, with portraits of her lining the walls, and filling the spaces of the studio and spare rooms when they were not hung. Every pose she could think of was emulated, but the pictures hadn't only extended to her. The things she liked were also shown. Vines crawled up white trellises. Plump, red strawberries hung from them. A book, set open on a windowsill, and cast in the moonbeams, appeared to glow, its words practically leaping off the page.

Cecelia had been flattered by his work, and often sat with him when he was not painting something pertaining to her, such as the surrounding landscape, or dream-like images from fantasy stories.

One of a knight in a full suit of armor astride a rearing gray horse, was exquisite, the purple-dyed ostrich feathers on top of the helmet thrown back. The rays of the Sun shined off the metal, and the yellow mane of the stallion was captured as it half-twisted around its neck, a wild fire in its wide eyes. The lack of profile gave it more dimension.

Looking back, however, she wondered if that crazed fire was more visionary than he had first intended it to be. The two realms were apart, and changing that could simply not be done. A long dead person could not be brought back.

But that eye had allowed him to see her…

The far-off lands she saw now began to lose their luster, but only to her. The vibrant colors that surrounded her appeared to be chaotically splotched, as if they were a watercolor in motion. It was dizzying.

She couldn't help but feel at least some sense of animosity toward Maximillion for this. Why couldn't he have left her as she was, in this bliss? Why force her to experience such unhappy emotions again? She had no control over his visits.

Continue they did, their effects growing more and more to her detriment as each meeting came to pass. The conversation wore away to simply being a speaker attempting to converse with another, but without the reciprocation of that person who was being addressed. It was odd, and highly uncomfortable. Cecelia could only attempt to try and ask questions, or to draw him into a talk of old times, but to no avail. It was as if he simply did not hear her, or chose not to acknowledge her.

She chose not to voice her thoughts, but it reminded her, agonizingly, of the lack of control she'd had over her own life. He was hurting her by staring at her, and admiring her as if she was a sculpture.

It wasn't to say that she was bankrupt of affection for him because of this, but was still being reduced in value. With each passing occurrence that she was disturbed, she began to wish more and more that she had been left completely alone.

Such disillusionment was what she thought of as she touched the surface of a shallow pond, her fingers causing her reflection to become distorted by ripples. She alone would have to discern what this meant for her future, and that was out of the question. Her freedom from the control held over her life by her own weakness was short-lived. Even after her life was over, she was plagued with misery.

Cecelia wasn't at first aware of the figure standing at the opposite shore, being too engrossed in her own thoughts at the time. The pond was wide enough for her not to see the figure's reflection beyond hers.

"You desire answers?"

She jerked her head up with a gasp, her hand retracting to her lap. Her mouth and eyes were wide open.

Before her stood a bronze-skinned man in flowing white robes. His blue eyes, oddly without pupils, shone out at her from beneath a white turban. Hanging on his neck was a strange, cross-shaped object. It was colored gold, with a peculiar outline of a circle on the top. A strangely impassive look was on his face. Hanging from his ears were two circular, gold-colored earrings.

At her stunned silence, he asked again in that same oddly calm voice, "You have questions, Cecelia?"

She slowly nodded her head, drawing in a shaky breath.

"Who—who are you?" Cecelia asked quietly, staring into those sapphire eyes. They were almost hypnotic, and not necessarily in a good way.

"My name is Shadi," he replied simply, raising a hand to place it to his chest, "I was the one who gave your husband, Maximillion Pegasus, the ability to see you."

Cecelia stood up quickly, her one hand grasping the red bow just beneath the fabric's breast line. She subconsciously twisted it between her fingers as she inquired in a mouse-like voice, "Why? Why did you do this?"

"It was destined," he replied, spreading his arms, "So it has been foretold, so it shall be."

She shook her head. "I am sorry, sir, but that is not an acceptable answer."

"Perhaps it is not, but it is the truth," he replied as he begun to circle the bank.

Cecelia shrunk inward at his movement.

"I mean you no harm." Shadi's words were soft in tone, but not pitch. He still lorded over the conversation for the short amount of time that he had appeared, yet he was telling the truth.

She wasn't sure what to make of any of this. Cecelia was sure she had never met this man, so why was he here? Could he be perhaps one of the divine beings she had learned about as a child? Why then, was he not benevolent?

Not that she was about to complain. For once, a new face did not disappear from her.

Cecelia backed a few steps away from him as Shadi stopped before her.

This time, he displayed no reaction to her defensive movements, which worried her even more.

Instead, he explained, "Each life, though seemingly insignificant, as compared to the vast numbers in adversity to it, matters greatly in the formation of future events."

Holding up his hand once more, he balled it into a fist. "Such events are fragile, but they are premeditated from the beginning. I am a servant of the pharaoh who saved the world from a dark magic 5000 years ago, and now he has returned to save the world once again."

Cecelia could only blink in response. She really wasn't sure what to say to that.

He touched the gold object on his chest once for emphasis. "That magic resides within this item, as well as the one I gave Mr. Pegasus."

"But, why?" Cecelia managed to ask, eyeing the foreign object worriedly, and drawing even further into herself. Her body may as well have been doubled over.

"It was foretold," he reiterated, "We have no control over our fates, and running from them only makes matters worse."

She stood right up, sucking a breath in between her teeth. "You mutilated my husband simply because someone said it was meant to happen?! Where is your sense of morals?"

"Cecelia, you are not one to talk, considering you have judged someone you have only just met," Shadi pointed out.

Remembering her manners, she held her tongue, but only for a moment. "I have fair reason. You have admitted to causing us unhappiness."

She shook her head. "I know of preordained unhappiness all too well. You at least had the ability to change what was to be, and you squandered it."

Her eyes narrowed. "People do terrible things in order to be able to play god, yet when you are given that ability, you resign yourself against it."

Shadi's face was oddly impassive once more, making the situation even more unnerving, despite the calmness of the forest in which they were standing. Cecelia couldn't help but wonder if she was speaking with a machine as opposed to a man.

When he spoke, his voice maintained its monotone, but the rebuke was plain. "You are making a demand like a spoiled child. Should such alterations have been made, the pharaoh's spirit would not have been able to rest. Since that would hold no significance to you, as you have not known of him until this moment, I will instead talk of Maximillion."

Cecelia's outrage was contained by her curiosity. The novelty of Shadi himself had not yet worn off, and she wished to know what exactly he was getting at. She could at least agree with the point that this just-named ancient ruler didn't matter to her quite much. As unhappy as this unknown individual's predicament was, it sounded like a forgotten legend.

…Then again, what of that eye? It confirmed this convoluted story, what little she knew of it.

"Should I have not given him the chance for power, he would still mourn you, but without a sense of hope. That would not be the life you would want for him."

Cecelia said nothing in response for a moment. He had her there, but she was growing more and more unsettled with each word that passed his lips. She also did not wish to think of the further repercussions concerning that alternate scenario.

"He promised we would be together again, Shadi. What did he mean?" She pressed.

"The item I gave him contains the power to see what others cannot. Seeing, however, only conveys so much, as you probably have experienced. Should the seven Millennium Items, two of which are his Eye, and my Key, be collected by Maximillion, and he has performed other necessary tasks, he will harness unimaginable strength."

Her eyes widened. "He could touch me?"

"Yes," Shadi replied, holding up a hand in a stopping gesture, his eyes narrowing, "but it will be at the expense of others."

She sighed, lowering her eyes to the ground. "I suppose it is true. When he spoke to me of such a thing, it scared me," she placed a hand to the bare skin of her chest, "I can understand his covetousness, for I miss him greatly as well, but…"

She ran her hand up and down her sleeve, cupping her arm as she did so, "But I don't like the way he looks upon me. Should we be reunited, I fear he would become obsessed with me."

"Perhaps," he replied, neither confirming nor denying, "but the fact remains that it is not to be."

She drew in a sharp breath, gripping the fabric at her breast. "Tell me that it will not be at his detriment!"

Shadi frowned. "I fear I have not clarified something. I have knowledge of what is predestined, but I cannot view every detail of the future. That ability is for another."

She returned his frown. "But surely you can tell me a fragment!"

"I can tell you how he will attempt to find you," he replied, "The shadow magic from long ago was implemented in duels between powerful rulers for great wealth and influence during the era of the Old Kingdom in Egypt. Maximillion, learning of the mysticism of the pharaohs, had come in search of a way back to you. That was when we had met."

"And you placed that object in him," she finished quietly, "Was it against his will?"

Shadi's expression remained unreadable to her. It was maddening. Cecelia hadn't been told what he was, but she doubted that he was simply a man. What was he, a magician? An angel? God? Perhaps not God. He did not seem that powerful.

"No," he replied, "the act fulfilled his purpose."

Cecelia's nostrils flared, and she stepped once forward, the top half of her body angled in the same direction, and her fists clenched behind her. Whatever she had wondered before did not matter. She would defend Maximillion's honor. "That hardly qualifies! What if he did not desire it beforehand?!"

"Then he would not have followed me into the resting place of the Millennium Items," Shadi replied, unfazed, "I warned him against doing so."

She lowered her head, her hands falling flat against her back. She straightened up once more.

"Maximillion's power will grow with each soul he will take. The Millennium Eye will give him this ability. His likely targets will be those who possess the other Millennium Items, for example, me." The last few words were said in a much quieter voice.

Her head snapped up, and she backed away from him, her arm extended horizontally before her face like a shield. Her expression was horrified. "No, not him! He wouldn't harm anyone!"

Shadi shook his head before tossing her own words back at her. "Men take extreme measures when they have no further option."

"That's not true!" Cecelia gasped, dropping her arm and snapping her head forward, tears glinting in her eyes, "He's not like them! You simply don't know him!"

"The contrary," he leaned forward, his earrings swinging once, "I know him well enough to understand that he would do anything to save his wife. He traveled to lands unknown, and threw himself into a place of darkness and treachery just to find the very glimmer of hope that he would see her face once more."

She had begun to shake her head as he spoke, clutching the sides of her skull, her eyes shut tight. Her body shook, but Cecelia made no retaliation. Memories shot by her, stilled images ripped from time. The child Maximillion offered his hand to her, with a shy invitation to dance. The adolescent version of him joyfully twirled her once around, their laughter filling the air, on the balcony of his home. In a much more somber scene to follow, he peered worriedly over the side of her bed, all the while pressing her hand softly, and whispering comforts while she fought to keep a stiff upper lip to her pain.

Shadi was wrong, he had to be! But it all made so much sense…

Cecelia dropped her hands, and flung herself forward to crash down on her knees.

He jerked back in surprise as she gripped the front of his robes, and threw up her head to reveal the tears streaming down her distraught face.

"Take it back! Take it all back!" She shrieked, "You saw our fates, now change them! I won't have it! I won't allow others to be hurt because of me!"

Cecelia had actually cracked this mysterious man. She hadn't meant to. For once, he did show emotion to her in the form of a gaping mouth and widened eyes. His hands, palm down, were cast before him.

Before he could react further, she exclaimed in that same choked-up voice, "I would rather not have known his love or his touch! Maximillion deserves better than this! Make it so! Allow us never to meet!"

She let go to bury her head in her hands, and sob. For as pathetic as she felt, it kept her from giving into the temptation to beat on the ground with her fists like the child Shadi had claimed her to be just earlier. Then again, her slumped-over form would suffice.

A hand rested upon her shoulder, causing her to raise her head, her lips still quivering, and her eyes puffy.

Shadi's surprise was replaced, much to her shock, by sympathy. His eyes had drawn wider, his mouth frowning in concern.

"You have proved yourself to be more virtuous than many. If it was in my power to help you, I would."

Swallowing once, she asked, "Then why have you told me this?"

"I gave him the ability to see you when he pleased. This would disturb you. You deserved to know the truth."

She sighed, rising.

He dropped his hand from her shoulder.

"I suppose I should be used to hearing bad news at this point."

Running a hand over her hair to put it back into place, she murmured, " I must thank you for your time, Shadi."

Grasping her skirt in both hands, she curtsied, her face still red.

He acknowledged it with a slight nod before casting a thoughtful gaze about him.

She raised an eyebrow, letting go of her skirt.

Whatever was passing through his mind, he revealed nothing.

"It is time that I have left you. I have bothered you long enough," he paused to bow, "I apologize for my intrusion."

Cecilia numbly accepted it. So many questions were still in her mind, but it appeared that he still had lives to manipulate in order for fate to run its course. While she could not appreciate his sort of ethics, at least he gave her this.

Once more, she was just a little doll propped safely out of the way on a shelf.

XXXXXX

The outline of a card whipping through the air caught Yugi's eye, causing him to bend to floor as the small object hit it with a whisper, landing face up.

Carefully, he picked it up, and stared curiously at the figure displayed upon it.

It was designed much like the Ties of Friendship in the fact that no description was written on the bottom. The card's image was that of a well-dressed girl seated in a chair, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. A shy smile was upon her face.

His eyes widened in recognition. He had seen this same picture before in the castle's dining hall the night prior.

If anything, she was an insight to the malevolent, child-like man that was Pegasus. Yugi was still self-repairing the damage done to him in the Shadow Realm. He had the Spirit of the Millennium Puzzle and his friends to thank for saving his life. What were a few wounds in comparison to complete and irreversible engulfment in darkness? He could learn to shake it off.

It was funny how things worked. He had been afraid of the Spirit the day before, but so much had changed in such a short amount of time. Perhaps the same could be said for Pegasus, although on a much smaller scale. Yugi couldn't say that he didn't feel any pity for the multi-millionaire as he was being carried, moaning in pain, away by his personal guard. At the very least, the students could discover his motivation for such heartless attacks on his grandfather and the Kaiba brothers.

Yugi held up the card for Joey and Tristan to see. "I wonder who she is?"

The sound of Téa's rifling through the book from which the card had fallen caught their attention. "This might shed some light on things," she held up a finger, "It's written in English, but I think I might be able to translate it. Granted, it'll be a little sloppy."

Joey smiled. "It ain't a school exam. I think you'll be okay."

She returned it, and the three listened intently as she began, "My dearest Cecelia..."


End file.
